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Ray Charles version

Look What They've Done To My Song, Ma


Hello mama, hello mama it's me
How you feeling mama?
Hm-hmm, that's alright
I've got something I want to talk to you about
If you don't mind
And I ain't mad, mama, no, no no no
Wait a minute, listen mama

Look what they done to my song, ma
Look what they done to my song, ma
The only thing I could do half right and now it's turning out all wrong, mama
Look what they done to my song
Now listen if you please

Wish I could find a good book, I'd like to live in the thing now
Wish I could find a good book, now, hey hey hey
If I could find a real good book, you know I,
I'd never have to come out and look
At what they done to my song

Look what they done to my brain, ma
Look what they done to my brain
Oh mama, it's a shame, you won't believe this, but it's true
They picked it like a chicken bone and I'm-ah, just about to go insane mama
Look what they done to my brain

Now girls, if you don't mind, I'd like to hear that some French

Ils ont change ma chanson, ma
(ooh, not bad)
Ils ont change ma chanson
(uh-huh. Let me see here {franglish gibberish})
Ils ont change ma chanson
(My French must be pretty bad, I better do this in English)

Look what they done to my song, ma
Look what they done to my song ma
Put it in a plastic bag and they turned the bag upside down ma
Look what they done to my song

(scat)
Maybe it's alright
Maybe it's OK, I don't know
But I tell ya
If my tears were money, I'd be a millionaire today
You know, the only thing I get to have right, now it's turning out all wrong, mama
You can't believe what they've done to my song ma, that I wrote myself
They put it in a plastic bag and they turned the bag upside down, mama

Lord, if I could find a good book,
I'd never have to come out and look at, uh
What they trying to do to my brain
It's a shame mama, you see they
They done pick it like a chicken bone
And I'm-ah just about to go insane
I'm insane, insane, mama
I'm going crazy, mama, that's what it is

Lord knows I don't care what they done to my song
No, I don't care about that, but see
The main thing, mama
What they trying to do to me

You see, well they stole everything I had, mama
And they made a million with it, and you know that hurts
But oh, I'm gonna keep on working on the building,
Just like you taught me, mama
Whoah, yes I will, yes I will, yeah

(scat, fade to end)

Son of a gun, edgar. That song is familiar. What a surprise that Ray did it.

Well, folks, with that number, Letty is going to slumber.

Goodnight, all.

From Letty with love

it's getting late up here in the north !
here is a poem by robert w. service (1874-1958)
who was called "the bard of the yukon"

THE SPELL OF THE YUKON ... THERE'S GOLD.....

I wanted the gold, and I sought it,
I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
Was it famine or scurvy -- I fought it;
I hurled my youth into a grave.
I wanted the gold, and I got it --
Came out with a fortune last fall, --
Yet somehow life's not what I thought it,
And somehow the gold isn't all.

No! There's the land. (Have you seen it?)
It's the cussedest land that I know,
From the big, dizzy mountains that screen it
To the deep, deathlike valleys below.
Some say God was tired when He made it;
Some say it's a fine land to shun;
Maybe; but there's some as would trade it
For no land on earth -- and I'm one.

You come to get rich (damned good reason);
You feel like an exile at first;
You hate it like hell for a season,
And then you are worse than the worst.
It grips you like some kinds of sinning;
It twists you from foe to a friend;
It seems it's been since the beginning;
It seems it will be to the end.

I've stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow
That's plumb-full of hush to the brim;
I've watched the big, husky sun wallow
In crimson and gold, and grow dim,
Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,
And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;
And I've thought that I surely was dreaming,
With the peace o' the world piled on top.

The summer -- no sweeter was ever;
The sunshiny woods all athrill;
The grayling aleap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.
The strong life that never knows harness;
The wilds where the caribou call;
The freshness, the freedom, the farness --
O God! how I'm stuck on it all.

The winter! the brightness that blinds you,
The white land locked tight as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.
The snows that are older than history,
The woods where the weird shadows slant;
The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,
I've bade 'em good-by -- but I can't.

There's a land where the mountains are nameless,
And the rivers all run God knows where;
There are lives that are erring and aimless,
And deaths that just hang by a hair;
There are hardships that nobody reckons;
There are valleys unpeopled and still;
There's a land -- oh, it beckons and beckons,
And I want to go back -- and I will.

They're making my money diminish;
I'm sick of the taste of champagne.
Thank God! when I'm skinned to a finish
I'll pike to the Yukon again.
I'll fight -- and you bet it's no sham-fight;
It's hell! -- but I've been there before;
And it's better than this by a damnsite --
So me for the Yukon once more.

There's gold, and it's haunting and haunting;
It's luring me on as of old;
Yet it isn't the gold that I'm wanting
So much as just finding the gold.
It's the great, big, broad land 'way up yonder,
It's the forests where silence has lease;
It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder,
It's the stillness that fills me with peace.

this bein the 13th, friday, and full moonish, we oughter play this one:

I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin'.
I see bad times today.
Chorus:
Don't go around tonight,
Well, it's bound to take your life,
There's a bad moon on the rise.

I hear hurricanes ablowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers over flowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.

Chorus
All right!

Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we're in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.

Chorus
Chorus

Some jumping for joy planned here for this evening.
Walter may be interested to know, we're planning to go to the Lowry where Paul Jones (who sang the above song with Manfred Mann) will be appearing with The Blues Band, a blues band- very good, my brother tells me, and well-known on the UK music circuits.

Maybe they'll sing Sweet Home, Chicago- I like that song.

Anyway, a rockin' evening in prospect! I hope we can get tickets...I just saw it in the paper last night.

Check it out

http://www.ukuleleorchestra.com/main/home.aspx

These boys (and a girl) are good.

The snow is snowing and the wind is blowing
But I can weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
For I've got my love to keep me warm
I can't remember a worse December
Just watch those icicles form!
Oh, what do I care if icicles form?
Oh, I've got my love to keep me warm
Off with my overcoat, off with my glove
I need no overcoat, I'm burning with love!
My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher
So I will weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
Oh, I've got my love to keep me warm
The snow is snowing, the wind is blowing
But I can weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
Oh, I've got my love to keep me warm
I can't remember a worse December
Just watch those icicles form!
What do I care if icicles form?
Oh-ho-ho, I've got my love to keep me warm
Off with my overcoat, off with my glove
I need no overcoat, I'm burning with love!
My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher
So I will weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
Oh, I've got my love to keep me warm.

Irving Berlin

Good morning, detano. Irving was prolific, no? It's chilly here but no snow, Canada.

From the fab four:

Beatles
» Good Morning Good Morning

Nothing to do to save his life call his wife in
Nothing to say but what a day how's your boy been
Nothing to do it's up to you
I've got nothing to say but it's O.K.
Good morning, good morning...
Going to work don't want to go feeling low down
Heading for home you start to roam then you're in town
Everybody knows there's nothing doing
Everything is closed it's like a ruin
Everyone you see is half asleep.
And you're on your own you're in the street
Good morning, good morning...
After a while you start to smile now you feel cool.
Then you decide to take a walk by the old school.
Nothing has changed it's still the same
I've got nothing to say but it's O.K.
Good morning, good morning...
People running round it's five o'clock.
Everywhere in town is getting dark.
Everyone you see is full of life.
It's time for tea and meet the wife.
Somebody needs to know the time, glad that I'm here.
Watching the skirts you start to flirt now you're in gear.
Go to a show you hope she goes.
I've got nothing to say but it's O.K.
Good morning, good morning...

There's a man in the funny papers we all know
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
He lives 'way back a long time ago
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
He don't eat nothin' but a bear cat stew
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Well, this cat's name is-a Alley-Oop
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)

He got a chauffeur that's a genuwine dinosawruh
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
And he can knuckle your head before you count to fawruh
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)

He got a big ugly club and a head fulla hairuh
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Like great big lions and grizzly bearuhs
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
(Alley-Oop) He's the toughest man there is alive
(Alley-Oop) Wearin' clothes from a wildcat's hide
(Alley-Oop) He's the king of the jungle jive
(Look at that cave man go!!) (SCREAM)

He rides thru the jungle tearin' limbs offa trees
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Knockin' great big monstahs dead on their knees
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
The cats don't bug him cuz they know bettah
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Cuz he's a mean motah scootah and a bad go-gettah
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
(Alley-Oop) He's the toughest man there is alive
(Alley-Oop) Wears clothes from a wildcat's hide
(Alley-Oop) He's the king of the jungle jive
(Look at that cave man go!!) (SCREAM)

Thair he goes,
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Look at that cave man go
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
He sure is hip ain't he
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Like what's happening
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
He's too much
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Ride, Daddy, ride
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Hi-yo dinosawruh
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Ride, Daddy, ride
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Get 'em, man
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)
Like--hipsville
(Alley-Oop, oop, oop, oop-oop)

Well, there's our dys, folks. Hey, cowboy. My word, haven't heard that one in a while, listeners.

and speaking of dinosaurs, take a look at the price on this stamp. <smile>

Breaking news:


NASSAU, Bahamas (Reuters) - A fire destroyed the Ernest Hemingway museum and The Compleat Angler bar on Friday on the Bahamian island of Bimini, one of the American novelist's 1930s haunts during the days he stalked big game fish.



The early morning blaze leveled the wooden inn in Alice Town and destroyed photographs and Hemingway memorabilia, police said.

They said the caretaker of The Compleat Angler, Julian Brown, was presumed dead. Brown, said to be in his 60s, alerted the inn's sole guest, who escaped though a window, but then disappeared.

A neighbor, Katherine Weech, said Brown's remains were found in the debris. Brown's father, Harcourt Brown, built the inn.

The destruction of the tiny island's biggest tourist attraction was the second major blow to hit Bimini in a month. On December 19, 11 residents were among 20 people killed when a Chalk's Ocean Airways seaplane plunged into the sea in Miami's shipping channel

Letty, that's sad news. if it's not inappropriate, here's something upbeat about the Carribean:

Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I wanna take ya
Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama
Key Largo, Montego,
baby why don't we go,
Jamaica

Off the Florida Keys
there's a place called Kokomo
That's where you wanna go
to get away from it all
Bodies in the sand,
tropical drink melting in your hand
We'll be falling in love
to the rhythm of a steel drum band
Down in Kokomo

[Chorus:]
Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I wanna take you to
Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama
Key Largo Montego,
baby why don't we go
Ooh I wanna take you down to Kokomo,
we'll get there fast
and then we'll take it slow
That's where we wanna go,
way down in Kokomo.

Martinique, that Monserrat mystique...

We'll put out to sea
and we'll perfect our chemistry
By and by we'll defy
a little bit of gravity
Afternoon delight,
cocktails and moonlit nights
That dreamy look in your eye,
give me a tropical contact high
Way down in Kokomo

[Chorus]

Port au Prince, I wanna catch a glimpse...

Everybody knows a little place like Kokomo
Now if you wanna go to get away from it all
Go down to Kokomo

[Chorus]

Hey, Yit. We always want "upbeat" here, oh tortoised one.

Ah, Yit, those lyrics are fabulous. Thanks for the sunbeam. <smile>

Found this, listeners, in the archives, and it involves a bar in Jamaica:


Aston Ruddock seated at the counter

He will buy any man a rum or two

Yet plenty a man won't ever accept it

For rumors what he and an Englishman use to do



Busha Parkie a regular customer

He metaphorically opens and closes the bar

He's always drinking and spitting

As if his stomach an overflowing reservoir



Now Mass Ken never leaves Miss Chin

Since she and Rocky parted ways

While Agatha, Arthur and Miss Dor are there

Whither its rainy, stormy or sunny days



The Bar is full of patrons

In groups they are conversing

Briscoe the baker with Tooksie a factory worker

Mon a whole heap a babblings



William perhaps the most intelligent

Yet only a carpenter by trade

He's quick with a joke on a politician's quote

How Howard Charvis sailed the wrong boat



On top of a table scathered dominoes

And a neatly stack deck of cards

For their will always be some people

Who will no doubt play for a smalls



Every Jackman eying the Barserver

As she passes the liquor around

Sweet lyrics they all are uttering

In their quest to take her home



Then there is a backroom

Obscured under dimmed lights

Men watching go-go dancing

Not a fuss, a quarrel or fight



These men should have been home

Spending time with wife and kids

Then again I shouldn't have said that

Frankly its none of my business



Now I must end this saga

As life continues on

For as I aged and get older

At Miss Chin's Bar I too will make my trod.


Inspired by the song "The Pianoman" by Billie Joel. Dedicated to the memory of those named therein, all but four is now deceased. So long my friends may you all rest in peace.

Rather odd song, no?

extremely interesting and skilled musicians, from traditional to jazz improv.
John Fahey

Good afternoon all.

Can't get that Kokomo song (Beach Boys) out of my head. Love it. I just heard it and Don't Worry, Be Happy in the movie Cocktail in which Tom Cruise ran a little bar in Jamaica. Nice scenery.

And today I wish Faye Dunaway (1941) a Happy One.

er, dys. and the answer is?

Thanks, Raggedy, always nice to see our PA person with pics.

My word, folks, I didn't know The Beach Boys did Kokomo.

Strange how one thing leads to another. In searching out Faye, I came across this Cross man:

Artist: Christopher Cross Lyrics
Song: Sailing Lyrics



It's not far down to paradise
At least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find tranquility
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me

It's not far to never never land
No reason to pretend
And if the wind is right you can find the joy
Of innocence again
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me


Sailing
Takes me away
To where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free


Fantasy
It gets the best of me
When I'm sailing
All caught up in the reverie
Every word is a symphony
Won't you believe me


It's not far back to sanity
At least it's not for me
And when the wind is right you can sail away
And find serenity
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me

Yep. The Beach Boys recorded Kokomo. I'm not too familiar with their music, but I loved that song in the movie "Cocktail". So I bought the soundtrack.

Thanks to our dys, listeners. I was prompted to seek out Jeff, although I still don't know what jazz has to do with that man:



Sorta looks like Kevin Anderson, right?

I vaguely remember, Cocktail, Raggedy, but not the music.

Unhappy news, listeners:



Fla. Eighth-Grader Shot by Deputies Dies By KELLI KENNEDY, Associated Press Writer
3 minutes ago



LONGWOOD, Fla. - A reportedly suicidal teenager who was shot by police while brandishing a pellet gun in his middle school has died of his injuries, his family's spokeswoman said Saturday.






Kelly Swofford, a neighbor who had been with the family all morning, stood outside their home and confirmed that 15-year-old Christopher Penley had died.

"They want to donate his organs because that is what Chris would want," Swofford said. "The family is devastated, just devastated."

Penley, of Winter Springs, was accused of pulling the pellet gun in a classroom Friday and pointing it at other students before forcing one into a closet, then leading deputies and SWAT team members on a chase that ended in a school bathroom.

When he raised the gun at a deputy, a SWAT team member shot him, authorities said.

Officers who had responded to the 1,100-student school in suburban Orlando believed the gun was a Beretta 9mm, and didn't learn until after the shooting that it was a pellet gun

Pastrè dè délaï l'aïo,
As gaïré dè buon tèms?
Dio lou baïlèro lèrô,
Lèrô lèrô lèrô lèrô baïlèro lô.

Pastré lou prat faï flour,
Li cal gorda toun troupel.
Dio lou baïlèro lèrô,
Lèrô lèrô lèrô lèrô baïlèro lô.

Pastré couci foraï,
En obal io lou bel riou!
Dio lou baïlèro lèrô,
Lèrô lèrô lèrô lèrô baïlèro lô.
...........................
Shepherd across the river,
You're hardly having a good time,
Sing baïlèro lèrô
No, I'm not,
And you, too, can sing baïlèro

Shepherd, the meadows are in bloom.
You should graze your flock on this side,
Sing baïlèro lèrô
The grass is greener in the meadows on this side,
Baïlèro lèrô

Shepherd, the water divides us,
And I can't cross it,
Sing baïlèro lèrô
Then I'll come down and find you,
Baïlèro lèrô
...........................
This is actually one of the Songs of the Auvergne collected by the French composer Joseph Canteloube.

When I want to relax, I lie down and listen to this haunting song. It is, at the moment, the most beautiful I can imagine.